Our Son
by Lover of Narnia
Summary: After Loki's crimes, can those closest to him find it within themselves to forgive and love still or shall they look down in condemnation?


**Author's notes: This is my first fanfiction trespassing into the realms of the Marvel universe, so, though I am pretty sure all names are correct, bear with me if there is an error. This story is not spoiler free and might contain spoilers for the Avengers/Thor movie. Besides this, I hope you enjoy!**

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With that the All Father commanded his judgment, condemning Loki to the punishment that he had decided, finding it just and harsh enough to convey that what had been done was no simple act of boyhood rebellion, but a criminal deed far from excusable. Loki's green eyes burned like emerald fire, but his expression remained the one of simple resignation; near humble, but not to that extent, more accurately described as an appearance of defeat. The muzzle, securely place over the prince's mouth, hushed any objections he might have given and further added to his air of yielding, though inwardly his strength had not all knelt before his sire's decree.

Thor, brother of Loki and deity of thunder, stood resolute and nigh expressionless to the proceedings, causing one to guess he displayed indifference when in reality he felt far keener than this. It gave him no pleasure to see the All Father's staff crash to the floor in finality of such a verdict, for he had loved Loki and grown to a man with him as a cohort and comrade, but it was not his place to argue and therefore left it thus. Frigga, Mother of both men and wife to Odin, wore a countenance of pain, veiled, but evident by how her hands whitely gripped the rail in front of which she stood. Upon her lips were many words of protest and pleading, but the fashion in which Odin looked on was much too harsh to fight against. She knew he would not be swayed, at this time, by any manner of her begging, or even tears, for the shame and disgrace that he felt, coupled with his sense of betrayal was strong. She resolved that it was pointless, and merely bit her lip, her heart crying that Odin's anger might melt before the sentence could be carried out.

The silence was grating and electric, Loki's irises sweeping across his jury; Frigga, Thor, and Odin, then falling to the floor in submission. He expected no compassion from the All Father, and though Frigga would give it, such would be looked down upon by Odin and unable to be displayed. Two Asgardians stepped forward, clad in the silver, the livery of the palace guards, and took his arms firmly, tugging until he yielded and walked down from the stand upon which he had stood. The prince cast a final look to Odin, who, wrapped in the gold of a king, bore down upon him with a singular blue eye, showing neither mercy nor even a glimmer of fatherly benevolence. This encounter, brief but striking to those who understood its connotations, struck Loki with a sense of loneliness and devastation, for he knew that, though his Mother stilled loved him, Odin had lost the affection for his adopted child that had always been present. Laufy's son had taken it for granted those many years as a boy, but now, when he had hoped that perhaps his sire would extend his grace and show him, as lost and broken as he might be, that there was still redemptive hope, it was not there. The grand doors of the court sealed with resounding sound behind the prisoner and his escorts, leaving the royal family alone in the vast chamber.

"Odin!" Frigga's voice, high with panic and sorrow, pierced the encroaching quiet and caused it to fall back, "H-How could you!"

"Quiet, woman! Judgment has been given! Loki has brought upon himself this punishment and none can bear it for him." When he saw that she sought to further protest he hissed, angrily, "That creature you just saw leave this place is not my son! He has disgraced, betrayed, and forfeited any love from me or this house. I forbid you going to him. See him no longer as Loki of Asgard, but Laufy's son." With these convicting and cold words Odin swept from the room; so quick was his exit that the cape he wore gave a snap, but this was drowned out by the closing of the doors he had passed through.

Frigga laid a hand to her lips and sunk to the floor, tears falling down her cheeks and to the surface of her dress. Her head rested against the rail of the balcony upon which she had stood and she cried softly, eyes shut. Thor's footsteps echoed and then beside her he knelt wrapping her in a hug. It was a tight embrace, but not rudely strong. She gripped his sinewy arm gently, laying her brow to his shoulder, "Thank you, Thor, my son. My precious son…"

Loki took the first several days of his punishment with much strength; refusing, despite it, to indulge the pleasures of his captors and call out in pain over the strokes of the whip. His garb of princely fashion was soon exchanged for something simpler, for his ease and his warden's, but still retained the colors that had been his own for so very long; black and green. A week's rigorous schedule he kept, muzzled and chained, submitted to Odin's whims, bound, flogged, then led back to his cell. He met his lashes with fortitude, in a manner that proved his royal birth and caused the task set upon his guards to be harder, for they all cringed that they had to be the ones to condemn him after having seen him grow up as their master. Seven days, and then eight, though eternity might have lasted longer for him, and soon he found himself weakening, unwillingly, but all the time he raised no struggle nor protest, always looking at the men who came to fetch him with green eyes holding years of his sin, guilt, and heartbreak. Frigga nor Thor came to see him, and it was not long before he lost hope of their appearance and found solace in hours of darkness and silence.

It was upon the ninth day when Loki found himself fighting, with every fiber, to not to succumb to the pains inflicted upon him. His muzzle had been removed so he might breathe easier, and now he leaned his brow against the post, hissing as the whip seared him. Sweat was trickling down his skin, soaking him until he felt quite cold and trembled, as though afraid, but in reality was not. He gave a restrained cry to the next strike, biting down upon his tongue until he was sure that he tasted blood, trying, through gasping breaths to hold back. He was unprepared for the next as the raw coil twined around his side and scrapped a path across his skin, tearing a yell from his throat. A moment passed, dragging on his misery, the silence only making the burning across his back greater, more unbearable, and then he felt his shackles be loosened from the post and in a moment he no longer had support. Loki stumbled backward, swaying on his feet and then his knees buckled and he crumbled into a heap upon the floor, shaking slightly and breathing in a tight fashion.

The guards stood, dumbstruck and quiet, unsure how to react or move; whether to assist or wait. They were cut off though from either path, for from the direction of the door came a strangled cry of horror. Frigga, Queen of Asgard, flew forward, tears streaming their liquid lines down her cheeks and falling to the floor or freezing cold upon her skin. She fell upon the floor, hands, gently, motherly, reaching out and cradling Loki's head, slipping it upon her lap. "My son…" she sobbed, kissing his temple and stroking his black hair, tenderly holding him.

The doorway in which she entered was suddenly filled again, the large frame of Odin standing there, towering. He strode a few paces forward, eyes wide, flashing, with rage and face contorted to match this, "Frigga!" he thundered. "Away from him, woman! You defy me openly!" he said these words almost venomously, his voice loud enough to carry far beyond the room.

Frigga turned streaked cheeks and pleading eyes to him, but he only bore down upon her with the chill of his one, blue, iris. "He is a criminal, Frigga, and you make a spectacle of yourself by doing such. And further, you shame me and this house. Away from him." His tone was now low, threatening, and he stalked a step forehead, "He is no more worth your affection then a rat. He is-"

"Our son!" She screamed, "Our son, Odin. Your Son!" She shook with emotion, lips parted and hands trembling violently, but conviction in the way she looked up boldly to her husband.

These words froze Odin, running like icy water down his spine, making their way through his veins until the flow touched his heart, stopping anything more he had wished to say, seizing the words before they left his lips. The staff in his hand crashed to the floor with a resounding sound, shocking all with its fall except him. Through his memory played every scene of the past, from the small baby, blue skin, red eyes, suffering and crying, that he had held in his hands, to the young man that had fallen from the rainbow bridge into the abyss. All of this was before him as he stared, eye glossed, at the woman upon the ground holding her broken child. He remembered the pain when Loki had discovered the truth behind what he truly was and how, both of their hearts, Father and son's, had broken a little. What had happened? What had caused this shade to pass over him that made him hate this man he had fought to keep, cherish, and sire? Yes, his adopted child had done much wrong, killed many, sowed discord and strife, brought near war and committed much sin, but there was redemption even for the most lost among them, was there not?

With a gasp the All Father looked a fresh upon Frigga and Loki, stumbling forward, then coming to his knees beside her, looking down, speechless, "I-I am sorry. So sorry." And with this he laid his lips to his wife's forehead and then touched Loki's brow, firmly but in a warm fatherly way "There is still hope for you, _my son_."

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**Ending notes: So, what did ya think? Love, like, hate? Reviews are amazing and welcome! ^.^**


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